


Who the Hell is my Secret Santa?

by thekitgregoryblog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, SO MUCH FLUFF, Secret Santa, Sick Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Steve Rogers-centric, steve likes disney movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekitgregoryblog/pseuds/thekitgregoryblog
Summary: Steve finds himself sick and alone on Christmas, until someone starts leaving gifts at his apartment door...





	

Steve was sick. 

Again. 

On Christmas. 

And to make things even worse, his mother was insisting he stay home to rest instead of coming to visit. 

“Ma, it’s not like * _ sneeze _ *... I’m dying. It’s just a little * _ sneeze _ *... cold. I can still make it in time for dinner.”

Sarah Rogers sighed deeply into the phone, and Steve could just imagine her massaging her temples like she would do when she got frustrated with him in his younger days. “I know my son, and a ‘little cold’ is a thing I’m rightful to be worried about.”

Steve groaned, suppressing a couch he felt bubbling in his chest. “But Ma, it’s Christmas-”

“Baby, I know.. but the last time you were sick, I nearly had to put you in the hospital.” His ma took a shaky breath. “I won’t be risking your health by having you trudge out in this snow just so that you collapse when you get here.”

Steve swallowed at the knot of guilt in his stomach and sneezed into his elbow. He’d always been a bit of weakling, even when he was younger, and he was well aware of the strain it put on his mother. Every time he so much as sniffled, she would whip out a thermometer that she seemed to carry on her person at all times and stick it in his mouth before another sound could escape. She had every right to worry, and Steve knew that trying to argue with her about the issue would only make things worse.

“Alright, Ma…” He said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. “I’ll stay in for the night.”

Her relieved sigh rushed into the receiver and the ease of her worry made Steve feel a little bit better about spending the holiday alone. “Call me tonight, okay? We’ll talk about traveling if you’re feeling better then.”

Steve bit his lip. “Okay, Ma. Merry Christmas.”

After she hung up, Steve let out a string of coughs that he’d been holding in since he’d picked up the phone. He took a minute to calm down, grabbing a tissue to spit out a nasty knot of phlegm, and made his way over to the couch to curl up for the evening. Thank God he remembered to pay his Netflix subscription that month (deciding instead to sacrifice some heating which could be the cause for his cold), because if he was going to stay holed up in his crap apartment, no one was gonna keep him from binge-watching every Disney movie they supplied. 

He was halfway through  _ The Little Mermaid _ when there was a knock on his door, so quiet that he almost hadn’t heard it over the sound of Scuttle’s yapping. Pausing it on a particularly funny screencap of Flounder’s scandalized face, Steve gathered himself and his blankets up to go check the door and had a funny hope that maybe his mother had come to pick him up for Christmas after all. Sadly, he realized that it would’ve taken her a lot longer than thirty minutes to make it from Boston to his shit-hole apartment in Brooklyn. He opened up the door, sneezing into his cocoon of blankets, and raised an eyebrow when he was met with the empty gaze of...nothing. 

“What the hell…?” Steve took a step out of his doorway, thinking that maybe the person had knocked on the wrong apartment door and was now walking away, but all he saw was the usual hallway scene staring back at him. He didn’t know many of his neighbors and the only one he ever actually seemed to run into was the guy in number 1941, much to the other guy’s apparent dismay. He was this grumpy dude, about a foot taller than Steve and almost twice as wide, and he kept his long hair up in a messy bun. Which, Steve only ever admitted to himself, was completely adorable. 

The first time they’d met was when Steve stumbled into him as the guy was making his way out of his apartment, earning him an annoyed look from the taller man. Steve remembered blushing and stammering out an apology, but the guy just shrugged past him and made his way down the hall without another word, his left arm hanging limply at his side. He didn’t think much about the man until his next encounter with him when Steve once again bumped into him, this time causing the papers the man was carrying to fly in every direction. Steve had bent down to help the man recollect them, but the guy snapped at him to leave it be before Steve even had the chance. He did manage to catch the words  _ Department of Veteran’s Affairs _ before scuttling back into his apartment, and reasoned that maybe that was the reason why his arm was hanging so awkwardly. Steve had been hoping to run into the guy ever since that last moment, to ask when he’d served and to thank him for his service, but it seemed like the man had made a point to steer clear of Steve to prevent future grievances. 

Now, Steve looked over at the guy’s apartment and wondered if he too was spending Christmas alone. He had a fleeting thought that maybe he should go knock and invite him over for a cup of hot chocolate or something, but thought better of it as a sneeze ripped through him. Turning to go back into his apartment, he took a step to the side but paused when he felt his heel knock something over.  Funny.. He hadn’t noticed anything the first time around. At his feet was a small package of sorts, a box with a tiny silver bow sitting on top of it, and he bent to gingerly pick it up from where it lay. It was a box of Chamomile Tea, with a note attached to the side of it. 

_ I couldn’t help but notice your cold, so I thought this might help. - From your Secret Santa _

Secret Santa? Steve turned the box over in his hands, like it might reveal another hidden message but all he got was the nutritional facts and advice that it was best served warm. Yeah, no shit. 

He gave the hallway one last look before filing back into his apartment and closing the door behind him, reading the message once over again. A tiny, confused smile touched his lips as walked over to his sad excuse for a kitchen, setting the box down on the counter and grabbing a mug from his cabinet, and he mulled over who his secret santa could be. Hell, it’s not like he had many friends to begin with and the only ones he has already gave him his gifts before they left for the holidays. Soon enough, all he was left with was a warm(ish) mug of chamomile tea and zero ideas as to who could’ve left him his little gift. He settled himself back into his place on the couch that was worn in from how many time he had sat in the same corner, and resumed his watching of Ariel and Sebastian’s adventure. 

By the time he finished  _ The Little Mermaid _ and moved onto  _ Aladdin, _ his sinuses were clearer and his chest, thankfully, didn’t feel like it was going to gave in on itself anymore. He’d made himself tea before, but  _ damn _ , was this the best tea he’d ever had the pleasure of making. He was about to get up to make himself another cup because maybe it would be enough to convince his ma he was a-ok, but another knock on his door made him pause. 

Steve practically threw all of his blankets away from him in his haste to get off the couch and made a beeline for his door, pulling it open to see if he had caught the person in the act. His face fell when he realized that once again, he was met with a dreary, empty hallway, and at his feet was another package. Well, to be more correct, a thermos. He picked it up off his welcome mat and looked at the note on top that was tied to a delicate silver spoon. 

_ Made some soup. Hope chicken noodle is okay. _ - _ From your Secret Santa _

Steve let that sink in for a moment. This person took time out of their day, on Christmas no less, to make him some soup and with a nice ass spoon, too. He felt the gentle waves of heat flood his cheeks and made their way down his neck as he thought that maybe the person had made the soup already, but still, the thought of them giving some to him was enough to make Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

“God, Steve, get a grip. It’s only soup, not a marriage proposal.” He muttered, shaking his head in order to wipe the stupid grin off of his face but it worked to no avail. In fact, the smile stuck around for the entire time he ate his soup and even into the couple hours after, as he was curling up to watch  _ Beauty and the Beast _ . He got up until the part where Belle was being serenaded by the talking candlestick before things got a little different than he remembered. For some reason, he didn’t recall the walls being made of mashed potatoes and Belle being sailed down a river of butter in a gravy boat in the original version...and it wasn’t until he startled awake at the sound of knocking at his door that he realized why he hadn’t. 

Wait...another knock. Shit!

Steve bolted from the couch, almost tripping over the leg of his coffee table that was basically falling apart anyways, and threw open his door, exclaiming as he raised a finger to point childishly at the person he saw walking away, “HA! Gotcha!”

Then, he paused. There was something vaguely familiar about the person standing across from him, their back facing him so that the only thing Steve could really notice...was the bun on top of the guy’s head. 

Holy Shit. His secret santa was the grump from 1941!

Before Steve could even get a word out, the guy turned to face him, his expression guarded as he raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Uh...hey.”

Hey? That’s all he could say? This was the man who looked at Steve like he was an inconvenience every time they had ever met, and yet here he was leaving him super nice gifts and all he had to say for himself was  _ hey _ ? Steve had half a mind to tell him off right there, but all the squeaked out of his mouth was, “ _You’re_ my secret santa?”

The guy let out a sheepish laugh as he leaned against the wall of the hallway. “Well, I’m not much of a secret anymore, am I?”

“But..But you don’t like me.” Steve stammered, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “You basically told me to fuck off last time we ran into each other.”

A guilty look passed over the guy’s face and he scratched his left shoulder, wincing. “Yeah. I feel bad about that, you know?” He bit his bottom lip, which Steve happened to only now noticed was pink and deliciously plump. “I guess I kinda wanted to make it up to you. For being a jackass, and all.”

Steve felt his cheeks begin to flare red again because holy shit this was the last thing he expected. He was still reeling from the table turn as he caught a glance of the guy staring at him with a concerned look, as if Steve might fall over at any moment, and he forced himself to  _ get a fucking grip _ . “Well...Thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem.” The guy watching him for another second before turning to walk back to his apartment, but then flipped around to say. “There’s, uh, one last gift by the way. Just in case you need it”

The guy nodded his head towards Steve’s feet, and as Steve looked down, he saw a pair of gray fuzzy socks with a red star on each ankle. He bent down to grab them, and opened the note that was tucked into the top of one, not even worrying about the undoubtedly idiotic smile that was spreading across his face as he read it. 

_ Figured by the sound of your tv blasting that you might’ve skipped your heating bill this month. Done it myself enough times to know that your feet get cold first in the winter. - From Your Secret Santa _

Steve almost let out a laugh because not only had this guy paid way more attention to him that Steve ever thought he had, but he was actually kinda looking out for him too. He raised his head to thank the man, but frowned when he saw that the guy had already retreated back into his apartment. 

At the beginning of the morning, Steve never thought in a million years that he would have enough balls to knock on the door of apartment 1941, but by God, he was about to do it now. He marched himself over to the faded green wood and knocked three times, hoping that was enough to get the man’s attention and not enough to annoy him. Thankfully, the guy opened his door after only a few seconds of Steve standing there in a state of suspended anxiety and for the first time ever, his hair hung long to his shoulders.  _ Shit _ , was than an even better look on him.

Almost breathlessly, Steve asked. “What’s your name?”

The guy paused before answering. “Bucky Barnes. Yours?”

“Steve Rogers.”

They stared at each other for a few more minutes before Steve had a thought, gripping onto the socks in his hand in the hope that they might relieve some of his nerves in asking-

“Do you wanna watch some movies at my place?” He swallowed, his hands tightening around the soft fabric. “It might be better than spending Christmas alone.”

Steve was afraid that Bucky might give him one of those annoyed looks he was so accustomed to getting from the guy, and that the door would be slammed in his face before he could even run away. He held his breath as he waited for the hammer to drop, and it was nearing the point where he felt like his chest might burst when Bucky made his decision. 

“Yeah.” Bucky said,  smiling slowly at him “I’d really like that.”


End file.
